


let's play another game.

by fairycafes (kooscafe)



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn, Time Loop, daniel deserved better... sweetie im so sorry. i'm doing this for You, no but also. FUCK alex !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooscafe/pseuds/fairycafes
Summary: She almost thinks she’s hallucinating when she flips the card over and subsequently drops it.Hide and Seek.Inside, the scorched record player starts up with a screech. Grace bristles, tears forming in her wide eyes, nails digging into her palm. Run run run, time to run and hide--“No. Fucking fuck, no--” Equal parts rage and fear pump through her, bruised body shooting up off the ground and looking around, crazed and frightened and--Le Bail stands before her. "Let's play another game."Alternatively: Grace finds herself stuck in a time loop, and Daniel is her only constant.
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 41
Kudos: 732





	let's play another game.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! ♡  
> i wrote this entire fic and edited it in less than 24hours. i just couldn't stop thinking about daniel/grace and this fandom has a weird penchant for time loop fics so here's my contribution. #DanielLeDomasDeservedBetter. also both grace and i Love the word "fuck."
> 
> i hope you enjoy! ♡

To say that Grace was feeling mildly delirious, post-explosions of her in-laws and post-divorce (if you could even call it that-- was she technically widowed, now, with the way Alex’s flesh splattered across the once-pristine wood flooring?), was a dire understatement. One that could only be matched with the way she tells the firefighter she’s _fine_ , despite the sting of her gaping palm, and the faint dizziness from blood loss that’s beginning to play catch-up now that the adrenaline has fizzled out of her system. The only thing that’s keeping her afloat is the drag of Becky’s cigarettes, and the bitter memory of crushing her would-be mother’s skull in with that godforsaken box makes her realize she’d smoked the one between her fingers down to the nub.

Stubbing the old one out, she opens up the metal case, fishing another cigarette out without looking. It’s placed between her lips, blood-caked fingers using the lighter before setting it down again, glancing at the case. It takes a second for her to register something beneath the two cigarettes the open case had left.

A single playing card, the back sporting the Le Domas logo.

Breath hitching in her throat, Grace chokes on the smoke for a second as the cigarette falls from trembling lips. It’s nothing, she tries to reason with herself-- but the way her fingers shake violently as she slides the card out of the case says otherwise. It _hadn’t_ been there, when she grabbed the first one-- she’s sure, but then again she’s dizzy as all fuck and half out of her mind with the night’s events. She almost thinks she’s hallucinating when she flips the card over and subsequently drops it.

 _Hide and Seek_.

Inside, the scorched record player starts up with a screech. Grace bristles, tears forming in her wide eyes, nails digging into her palm. _Run run run, time to run and hide_ \--

“No. Fucking fuck, no--” Equal parts rage and fear pump through her, bruised body shooting up off the ground and looking around, crazed and frightened and--

Le Bail stands before her, smirking endlessly and causing her to scream out in a panic.

“No, _no_! I won, you sick fuck--”

“Not entirely. It’s time to try again,” Le Bail’s voice is deep, almost a grumbling noise, and it grates on her ears. “ _Let’s play another game.”_

†

The first loop (or second? If the original was the first, but this is the first do-over-- _Oh_ , _what the fuck ever,_ Grace thinks in hindsight, because the loop numbers don’t matter if she never _wins_ ) plays out just like the last. Grace pulls the one bad card, is mostly oblivious despite a sinister feeling overtaking her, and believes she wins when her in-laws explode at dawn.

Except Grace feels a deep sense of deja vu, always feeling like she’s seen this before. When Alex grabs her face, she swears she sees the future-- or a memory, more accurately, of what happened before. She sees his betrayal before he screams out, and that rattles her further. But not as horribly as Daniel’s second death shakes her in the moment-- the minute he stands in front of her, Grace sees it flicker in her mind-- the shot, the tears, the lifeless glassy look Daniel gets when he’s dying in her arms.

She grieves a little harder when Daniel gurgles out for her to go, choking on his own blood. This time, she squeezes his hand and smooths a hand over his curls. He died for _her_. The gratefulness bubbles up in her but it falls flat just as quickly as it came-- emptiness overtaking her before she snuffs it out and keeps pushing onward until she wins.

Grace smiles a little wider when Alex explodes in front of her.

But she’s failed again.

†

When Grace comes to, yet again, in the game room with the Le Domas’ surrounding her and awaiting her card pull, she remembers _some_ things.

She thinks it’s just a hallucination, maybe, but finds herself quickly reliving things beat for beat and it fucking terrifies her. When Alex grabs her in the hallway, she reflexively kicks his leg-- mind flickering in when he grabbed her to turn her over to his family, before she apologizes in order to keep a temporary ally.

It hurts, looking at Alex, knowing what he’ll do to her. The man she’d loved so much, just a few days (or loops? What is time, anymore, in this fucked hellish purgatory game) ago-- her _husband_ , the one to try and kill her at the end of the day. When he kisses her for the last time, she spits onto the ground when he walks away. The past and present merge together feelings that are too volatile, too heartbreaking to confront when she’s still unsure if she’s remembering correctly.

During Daniel’s conversation with her, she subconsciously mouths the words that ironically stick with her— _rich people really are different._ It catches her off guard, and she runs a little faster when he gives her the ten second head start.

The night continues to play out with only small details changed— Grace dodging the bullet to the hand Georgie originally shoots at her, but still falling into the goat pit and breaking it when landing. When Stevens chases her down and she steals the car, she gets as far as possible, tries to call the police, and when the car shuts down, she starts running as fast as she can into the woods. But Stevens catches up to her and shoots her in the leg, taking his chance to incapacitate her.

However, just like the times before, she kills him in the car crash (she takes a slight satisfaction in watching that fucker die), and in comes Daniel. Disheveled, handsome, drunk as all fuck _Daniel_ complaining about her crashing a car into his tranquility and she would laugh at him for such a complaint if she didn’t know what was coming next.

Grace begs, and screams, and bargains-- but Daniel denies, and denies, even though she _knows_ what’s to come. He’ll help her, he’ll poison his own family for her, and he’ll _die_ for her. The thought makes her heartache worsen, knowing how little faith Daniel has in himself despite him being the one to rush to her aid.

“No,” Daniel stresses, eyes sad and heavy and Grace swears there’s something different about it, this time. “I am not who you think I am. _Alex_ is the one who got out. If anyone was gonna save you, it would’ve been _him_.” His words don’t meet his eyes, filled with a kindness she notices before his next actions catch her off guard.

Daniel looks stricken by a thought, whatever it was causing him to not take his blow to her immediately like the last times-- instead, he blinks harshly, and gulps. Brown eyes meet blue and when she opens her mouth to plead again, he comes back to himself and strikes her down.

The night proceeds in the same fashion as previous times; the ritual going wrong, Daniel poisoning his family, and subsequently being shot by Charity. Being quicker, this time, Grace shoots Charity square in the head, taking satisfaction in the way she falls dead before rushing over to Daniel. She moves them beneath the staircase, lays his head in her lap, and stays with him this time. It’s the least she can do.

When he’s gone, Grace wipes her tears (which ends up smearing his blood on her cheeks, but she tries not to think about that), and rushes to the dining room, only to be confronted by Becky.

This time, Grace doesn’t let herself get carried away by anger and grief-- she knocks Becky out, but doesn’t kill her. She stands there, panting, and Alex walks in. For a moment, she thinks the endgame could change. Maybe this is how she wins? If Grace doesn’t kill Becky, then maybe Alex doesn’t rat her out, maybe Grace doesn’t lose her husband entirely. At this point, she still doesn’t want to be with him, anymore-- but the curiosity of what _could_ change makes her hold in a breath.

Nothing changes. Alex _still_ betrays her, in a selfish act of wanting to possess her, seeing her as only an object to heal him-- otherwise, she deserves to die for his fucked up family.

Grace laughs, when Alex’s brains blow onto her face.

When the firefighter asks her what happened, she replies: “Married a fucking psycho.” It’s not a lie.

†

The next handful of loops, Grace tries wildly different things. In one, she simply never speaks to Alex, sits in the dumbwaiter with a gun, and avoids every fucked up family member except one initial encounter with Daniel (in which, similarly to his past actions, he let her go and lied to his family about her whereabouts) in the game room when she was grabbing ammunition. In another, she steals Charity’s gun in the beginning, but it’s a goddamn rifle she shoots Daniel down with and it pisses Grace off that she couldn’t stop it, but she keeps going. She tries changing small variables, big variables-- maids, and weapons, and timing, and hiding. Nothing seems to work.

In _every_ loop, there’s a moment with Daniel. Grace truly doesn’t have a fucking clue as to why.

He’s the only member of the family that helps her, every time the circumstances allow. He’s the only one she _always_ has a conversation with, during the game. She’s gone entire loops without speaking to Alex until the end, or any of the other members, but never Daniel. He’s a constant.

Throughout the loops, Grace learns to read him, learns more about him. How Daniel married Charity purely to not feel alone in his fancy apartment with endless booze, how Daniel truly thinks Alex is the one good person in their entire family, how the Le Domas’ did a yearly goat sacrifice (every time Grace ends up in the stables after that, she felt twice as nauseous), how Daniel had been the one to betray Helene’s husband (that, in particular, stings like a knife-- but the reminder that he’s the only one to help her each time soothes it down). Daniel is _good_ , and that is reaffirmed with every loop that passes. 

“Someone had to burn it all down, I just didn’t think it would be me,” Daniel says, every time he chooses goodness and morality and _her_ , over his family. Those words burn themselves into her mind. 

He thinks so little of his own pull to morality, but Grace sees it. She sees and understands the weight he’s carried, the horror he feels at the actions he’s partaken in over the years. It haunts him, and he knows the only way to truly win is to end it all, even if it takes him down with it. 

Daniel’s the only one she feels safe around, even if he has his own conflicts. But with each loop, it’s almost as if he’s quicker to turn on his own family. His gaze lingers a little too long, his hands a little shakier, and his words softer. 

In every loop, Grace tries to save him. But he’s foolish, and deceptively courageous at moments, despite his claim to weakness. Daniel always manages to die for Grace.

Inversely, in every loop no matter what Grace does, Alex betrays her.

 _Fuck Alex_ , Grace thinks, sitting on the concrete steps at dawn, smoking another cigarette. When the firefighter asks this time, she simply says: “Groomzilla.”

Distantly, she wishes Daniel were there to laugh with her, too.

†

Finally, unexpectedly, fucking _thankfully_ , Daniel remembers the loops, too.

It starts with a ghastly look in his eyes when Grace pulls the card, but it’s different than before. Daniel looks around the room, panicked as all fuck, eyes wide and meeting Grace’s own feverishly. It sends a chill down her spine, but she pushes the feeling away and focuses on what it could mean for the game. For the _win_.

Later on, wonders if that’s what she looked like when she remembered, too. 

This time, Grace pretends to be oblivious, and plays the game closely to the first time. It’s only the 9th loop, now, so it’s not too hard to recall how the first one began.

She goes to the dumbwaiter, waits, gets caught by Alex, pretends to love him again for a moment (even though it hardens her heart and she longs for something else, something she can’t place), goes through the wrong door, meets Daniel’s eyes for a second, runs, and ends up in the study. Grace waits, heart in her throat and palms sweaty, thinking of the looks Daniel gave her. She dares to hope he, too, remembers the loop.

The door next to her opens, and Daniel comes in, looking over at her and deflating at her wide-eyed gaze. Before he can speak, Grace beats him to it.

“You’re just here for a drink. You don’t wanna be the one to serve me up, Daniel.” Her voice is hushed, breaking in the middle and her eyes are filled with tears. _Please, please remember--_

“Fuck! You-- what is _happening_ ?” Daniel’s shaking, and Grace closes the door quietly behind him and pulls him to the table. Grace’s hands were shaking before but now she refuses, she _has_ to be stable because Daniel’s shaking and she needs to pour him a drink before he fucking snaps.

“It’s a time loop, it keeps repeating. I keep trying to win but don’t know _how_. Le Bail said--”

“Le Bail spoke to you?” Daniel pales, grabbing the drink and downing half of it in one go, grimacing. “What-- how--”

“After the first time, he told me I didn’t win _entirely_ ,” Grace explains, voice soft and hand gripping at Daniel’s arm. “Daniel, do you remember?”

Daniel takes another sip of brandy, and a deep breath. He’s not trembling visibly, but she feels slight vibrations as her hand remains on him.

“I remember Charity shooting me. I-- I remember dying, twice.. I remember the games--” Daniel’s free hand comes up to rub at his face, fear striking him. “What happened?”

“I can tell you everything. I promise, we just-- we have to go, Daniel. They’ll find us, and then we’ll _really_ be fucked.” Grace has grown accustomed to begging Daniel for things, but she always tenses when doing so. He might remember, but he might realize he’ll die and turn on her, just like Alex did, and--

Daniel proves to her, yet again, that he’s nothing like the brother he loves so fiercely. He nods, somberly, and she grabs his hand, tugging him into the servant’s corridor quietly. They walk, hands clasped together, for maybe ten minutes, before they’re far enough into the corridors that they can speak in hushed tones.

Daniel slumps against a brick wall, cursing under his breath for a moment before looking up at her, gaze tired. “What happened, Grace?”

That’s a loaded question, and far too complex to dive into too many details. Grace spares a glance at their hands, before letting go, sitting on the ground near his feet. “You only seem to remember two of the loops. But Daniel-- this is the 9th. I’ve won, every time, but… You die. You die for _me_ , because you help me, every time.”

He’s silent, for a minute. Absorbing the information, and avoiding her gaze as it flicks nervously between his face and the rifle next to him. Logically, Grace knows that Daniel cares for her, he likes her, and the feeling is mutual-- he’s never turned against her, not _genuinely_. But Alex has made her so paranoid that she feels bile in her throat at the silence after the weighted confession that Daniel siding with her has led to his (and his family’s, but he must’ve known that, right?) death each time.

“Is it Charity, every time?”

Grace bristles at the question. It had been, for eight of the loops-- but on one of them, he’d just blown up, like the rest of them. “Yes,” she answers, tilting her head up to look at him with sympathetic eyes. “I know you don’t love her, but fuck-- I know that shit’s hard. Your own wife? Fucking _blows_.” She speaks from experience, after Alex having tried to murder her over a handful of times.

Daniel nods, sliding down the wall until he’s sat next to her. Meeting her gaze, brow furrowed and worry etched into his features. “But why do I remember? I mean, aren’t I supposed to die-- unless the curse isn’t _real_ but then how is this even happening--”

“It’s real.” The confirmation has Daniel sucking in a sharp breath, and silence overtakes them both. It takes another minute or two before he speaks, conflict evident in his voice.

“How-- You know what? Nevermind,” Daniel shakes his head, hand dragging down his face in frustration. “Maybe-- Maybe I’m supposed to make it to the end to die with them?”

“That happened before. Still didn’t fix the loop. I don’t understand--”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Daniel’s laughing, a soft, sarcastic chuckle that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s empty, and it stings at Grace’s heart. Of all people, Daniel deserves so _much_. She’d seen his good heart in action, him dying for her over and over, him helping her because he knew it was the right thing to do. To let the Le Domas’ burn.

After a beat, Grace opens her mouth again. “You’ve never remembered before, so you always end up putting yourself in front of me when I’m in danger. Maybe we both have to make it until sunrise. Play the game as close as possible to the original, helping each other? But Charity-- she’s always the fucking problem. Always the one to take you out. We have to kill her before she gets the chance.”

“Killing my own wife? How devastatingly morbid,” Daniel rolls his eyes, but Grace knows he’s feeling the weight of it all again. “But what about Alex? Shouldn’t we be filling him in?”

If Grace’s heart stops from the ache at Daniel’s mention of Alex helping, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she offers a hollow snort, shaking her head sadly. It hurts her, to be the one to break it to Daniel that his brother is a renowned piece of shit, but she has to rip the bandaid off or it’ll be worse.

“Alex betrays me. After you die, before you die-- no matter what fucking I do. He always betrays me.” Her words are filled with a disconnect, from how many times she’s lived the proverbial knife to the back that Alex gives her.

Startled, Daniel shakes his head frantically. “What? No-- _no_ , Alex is… Alex is _good_. He’s the good guy, I--”

“You overestimate him, Daniel.” Grace’s hand finds its way to Daniel’s own, again. “He’s fucked me over _every_ fucking time. Mother _fucker_.” Squeezing Daniel’s hand, she allows herself a moment of self-pity, a single tear running down her still-clean cheek.

“Well. _Fuck_ ,” Daniel huffs, clamping his eyes shut to assimilate the information properly. It’s hard, she knows, to let go of Alex-- she’d loved him, so fucking much, so much she almost suffocated with it. He was _everything_ , and then nothing, and then _less_ than nothing-- a bad nightmare she wanted to shove behind her at all costs.

But she wanted to shove it behind her with Daniel at her side. He was _good_ \-- in a twisted, genuine, fucked up kind of way. He’s been filled with so much horrible shit all his life that he snapped, alcoholism and sarcasm soothing the wounds of a horror show-worthy upbringing. He didn’t deserve to die, and she wonders if Le Bail would agree.

It must take another hour for them to move. By this time, it’s just another two hours or so until the dawn would rise. If they stayed in the corridors, they would be safe from the rest of the family, but Grace knows that Alex was likely to look there as well. And so, she heaves herself up from the floor, nudging Daniel with her foot and nodding toward the rest of the corridor.

“C’mon. Let’s go try and figure this shit out.” Extending a hand toward the older man, Grace looks at him with soft eyes. She knows the information she’s shoved onto him isn’t easy-- but they have a game to fucking win, and she sure as fuck was determined to survive until dawn _with Daniel._

Daniel takes her hand, standing and hiking the rifle up on his shoulder. “Lead the way, _dear_.” The (sarcastic) term of affection has Grace rolling her eyes, tugging him along and releasing his hand quickly after. 

If asked if it gave her butterflies, she’ll deny it.

When Charity eventually finds them and shoots Daniel down this time, and Grace gouges her eyes out in a fit of rage, she tries not to think about how hard she cries this time around. Tries not to think about how she wipes her bloodied thumbs on her wedding dress, and holds Daniel in her arms as he dies. And she certainly doesn’t think about how she presses a fleeting kiss to the hand she’s holding.

If asked if losing Daniel, after he’d remembered everything, hurt worse than being betrayed by her own husband, she’ll tell you to go fucking fuck yourself.

†

Yet again, it’s _Hide and Seek_.

The minute the card is drawn, Grace meets Daniel’s eyes. The absolute, soul-lifting relief she feels at his eyes on hers, reaffirming with his gaze that _yes, I fucking remember, every moment_ gives her the courage to play the naive, loving bride again. It’s time to test her theory of just playing it like the first night, but saving Daniel at the end.

The theory goes to shit, because they play it safe (the fact that getting your back ripped apart by a metal gate and getting shot in the hand is what Grace considers _safe_ now is so fucked beyond imagination, that she cannot begin to dissect that) and Daniel _still_ dies. He dodges Charity’s bullet, because Grace shoves him out of the way, and she gets it right in her stomach. But she’s already fucked up, and Charity has more bullets, so Grace toughens up, and goes to grab at the woman-- before Daniel throws a hit first, knocking his wife out cold. 

For a moment, there’s victory, there’s Grace’s smile, bright as 1000 kilowatts and fucking _beaming_ at Daniel, until an arrow hits him square in the fucking chest. Another one follows shortly after, and Daniel falls to his knees in a second. Grace muffles her own scream, glaring in the direction of the attack.

It’s Fitch, and Grace grabs the gun from Charity’s limp hand before he can even blink, shooting him dead without flinching. The bumbling idiot managed to show up last minute and throw a wrench in everything. But Grace wasn’t going to let it end like this-- _fuck no_.

Grabbing Daniel, she gets his arm around her shoulder and limps to the nearest servant’s corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible while the others recovered from their poisoning. Daniel’s bleeding, and she’s _afraid_ , but there’s no time to be. They get into the narrow passageway, closing the door behind them and distantly, she can hear Alex yelling for her.

She settles her gaze back on Daniel, bleeding out and woozy and unfairly handsome (she’d never fucking admit that, the spark of attraction she’d vaguely felt when Alex had introduced them months ago, despite herself), as she plops down onto the ground with him. Grace is vaguely aware of how her senses are blurring, the blood loss _really_ starting to get to her now that they’d slowed down.

Daniel’s hand finds her own, and he squeezes weakly. “Guess we’re both fucked, then?” 

This had never happened before, both of them set to die before dawn rises-- the uncertainty makes her stomach ache (or is that the bullet wound?), but she pushes the bile down in favor of resting her head against Daniel’s shoulder.

“I guess so,” she whispers, breaths slowing and her nose burrowing itself in his shoulder. He smelled of sweat, and alcohol, and _warmth_. It gave her comfort, that if she was going to die in this hellhole, it would be with the one good person in this fucked up dynasty.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Grace.” The words are muffled against her hair, caked in goat remains and blood and she hears Daniel gag a little at what must presumably be the scent of death.

“The feeling’s mutual.” A beat, and then she’s looking up at him. “I meant what I said, Daniel. You’re a really, _really_ ,” her voice cracks, and she sniffles. “Really good guy. The only one of them that _is_.”

Daniel’s silent, for a moment, and he closes his eyes. Grace worries that he’s going, that she’s going to have to see him die before she does _again_ , but then he blinks his eyes open wearily. “How fucked up is _that_ , huh?” He huffs out a laugh, but it doesn’t fully reach his sad smile.

Grace dies first, this time. And Daniel sits there, holding her corpse, until he goes, too. He tries to ignore the aching in his heart, and chalks it up to the fucking arrow embedded in his chest.

†

 _Run run run, time to run and hide_.

The stupid song plays, and Grace bolts up the staircase without a second thought. She plays it the same as the other nights, albeit a little more desperate to get to the study. When she meets Daniel in the study, she wastes no time, frantically tugging him into the servants corridor and into her arms unexpectedly.

“We fucking _died_ . Both of us. And the loop _still_ started again,” Grace’s voice is muffled by his shirt, and Daniel hugs her back after a moment.

“I mean, I’ve died every time, but-- yes, Grace, dearest, we’re _here_ .” Daniel’s voice is laced with dry amusement, and if it were anybody else, Grace would stomp their foot for subtly mocking her. But it’s _Daniel_ , and she’s grown impossibly fond of him over the past 10 loops (now 11? It feels like a fucking _eternity_ ), so she merely shoves at his shoulder and then hardens up again.

“Daniel, we have to kill them.”

To Daniel’s credit, he takes the proclamation like a fucking champ. But he’s visibly nauseous, as any sane person would be. It only lasts a few minutes, before he’s straightening up and huffing. “I need a drink and you need a weapon.”

Which is how they find themselves sneaking around a few corridors, until they get to the game room-- Grace quickly foregoing the fake ammunition on display, instead grabbing a sword from the wall fixtures. Daniel laughs, taking a swig from the bottle he’d snagged from another room.

“All things considered, you look like a badass.” Daniel’s words make Grace smile, despite the situation, and grab the bottle from him-- downing a swig, hissing, then nodding toward the door.

“Let’s go make this game our bitch.”

Making it their bitch goes as far as killing Fitch, Charity (Daniel took the shot, this time, and Grace felt this fucked up sense of _justice served_ grow in her chest at the revenge that she knew Daniel was grimly getting), and Emilie. When they get the drop on Tony, Grace slices his throat open, the splattered gush soaking the front of her dress. She spits out what got into her mouth, focuses back in on Daniel just in time to see him shoot at the next person who came at them, which was his own mother.

He goes still, breath stopping and Grace grimaces. But there’s no time to think about it, because Helene walks in, and Grace doesn’t have enough time to grab the rifle from Daniel and shoot her down before her axe gets them. Daniel shoves her out of the way, taking an axe to the back and dropping to his knees at the same time Helene drops dead.

Grace screams in frustration, shooting at Helene another two times out of sheer anger before dropping to her knees on the music room floor, carefully cradling Daniel’s barely breathing body. The amount of times she’d had to be in this position with him fucks with her, and it’s distracting enough to see him try to calm her down that she doesn’t realize when Alex walks in the room with a knife.

“Grace? Daniel?” She’s sure it’s a sight to see-- your wife, cradling your half-dead brother, surrounded by your dead relatives. Grace would feel bad if it wasn’t for _that_ look overtaking Alex’s eyes, the same look of betrayal he’d gotten when she’d wordlessly admitted she wouldn’t be with him again.

“Grace-- It’s _okay_ ,” Daniel’s whisper is hoarse, barely there, and it hurts so fucking much to hear.

The sun is rising above the horizon. She lowers her eyes to Daniel taking his last breath, a tear rolling down her cheek and hitting Daniel’s pale face. So close but so fucking far. _It’s not fucking fair_ , Grace thinks, heart breaking with every second that passes.

Shaking her head, Grace glances back up at Alex. His eyes are wide, sunlight shining down onto him. The sight makes Grace smile, even if for a second, because of what will come next.

With a croak, she tosses her wedding ring at him. “Fuck you.”

He explodes, and yet all she can do is look at Daniel.

†

The first thing she tells Daniel in the next loop, when they’re in the game room, grabbing their weapons and readying themselves to go face the game, is that he better not fucking die on her.

Daniel huffs, a stilted laugh that tries to conceal his fear. She’s afraid, too-- afraid that her win doesn’t include Daniel, despite all things pointing to it including him. Afraid that they’ll run out of chances, and it’ll all be for naught. 

Grace doesn’t think she wants to win at all anymore, if she can’t win with Daniel by her side.

Every joke, every dry flirtatious remark, every gaze that lingers too long, haunts her. Sometimes the loop starts again right after dawn rises, other times it takes an hour, sometimes two. And she’s left with the feeling of emptiness, of fear that this was the final time and Daniel isn’t on those steps with her, throwing back an old ass scotch or whatever rich people get buzzed on. It worsens every single loop, and the paranoia sticks harder than ever.

It’s that fear that propels her to grab his hand, tugging on it and getting into his space. Their breaths mix, and his reeks of alcohol, but it’s comforting, at this point. Grace knows his eyes flicker to her lips, knows he’d never act on it first (he’s still too afraid, still loves his brother despite his misgivings, and would never pull the trigger on _actually_ doing something with his brother’s wife), and thus ignores it.

“I’m _serious_ , Daniel.” Grace is pleading, eyes moving swiftly between the door to the game room and the brown eyes that haunt her. “You can’t die on me again. Please. I can’t--” She inhales sharply, shaking herself and pulling back.

Daniel stiffens, for a second, before shoving the bottle on the table toward her. Grace accepts it, takes a sip, and then hands it back to him. He puts it on the table, leaving it behind as he wraps an arm around her in a tight hug. He breathes in the scent of her perfume, unmarred by blood yet, and she exhales heavily against his chest.

When they pull away, neither of them speak. They simply meet the other’s gaze, and trudge on the familiar path as the night before. They try to avoid the family, for the most part, but are heightened by past nights’ knowledge-- so when the time comes to confront them, as needed, they’re both ready. The Le Domas’ are _bad_ people, and while Daniel doesn’t _kill_ them (he’s too guilty, already, dooming them to their fates and having killed his own mother the last time), he let’s Grace do the dirty work while he watches their backs and avoids the killing.

Fitch comes first, with a knife to the eye in the bathroom. Helene is shot dead by Grace, who scowls even as a corpse. Emilie’s met with a knife to the neck, not too different from her husband-- the kids are locked up in their rooms, barricaded to simply blow up in the morning. Neither of them have the heart to physically kill children.

It all works well, until they stumble upon the remaining Le Domas’, including Alex. It’s nearly dawn, now, and in their haste, Charity doesn’t even bother blinking before shooting her own husband twice (seemingly in complete random yet fatal placement, in the stomach and chest— though not entirely on purpose, she’s a terrible fucking shot), tying him up in a chair to bleed and watch.

It’s four against one, now, and Grace gets overpowered with a knife to the back and is half-tied to the sacrificial table (all the while she hears Daniel scream for her, _Grace! Leave her the fuck alone! Grace!_ , the screams growing weaker the more blood he lost, which rips her apart) but the sun rises before they can finish up. Grace watches as one by one, the remaining explode, frantically untying herself and racing to Daniel’s body.

He’s dead. _Again_ . Tears of frustration bubble out in harsh sobs, and she clutches at his body frantically. “Fucking please, give me a fucking _break_!” She screams into the silence, eyes clamping shut before opening again in a blurry haze. Bloodied thumbs trace over his lips, his bearded cheeks, just trying to compose herself. Trying to feel him.

She passes out from crying. The hole in her heart ached the worst it had ever felt.

†

When the game begins, Grace feels different.

Giving the original game night events one last try, things start out normal again. When she and Daniel meet up in the study’s corridor, there are no words at first-- just a pull to one another, arms wrapped tightly around the other and lips pressing against the top of her head. It’s draining, watching the only person you have left in the world die what feelings like a thousand fucking times. Over and over again, ripping out your heart.

“What’s the plan this time?” Daniel whispers into her hair, leaning into the wall behind them and steadying her.

“Closer to the first night. But we get their weapons away, for the most part. This time, up the dose of the poison a little bit.” Daniel tenses a little, and Grace clarifies to soothe him a little. She knows the betrayal of his family is nearly second-nature now-- he made his choice. He chose to do the _right_ thing, whether that meant sacrificing himself or choosing Grace. But it still stings, the ache of the trauma still haunts him, she knows. “Not enough to kill. Just… get them down a little more. If they’re more groggy, and without many weapons, it’ll be easier for neither of us to get killed. But you have to let me get caught, if I do. You have to work from the inside again. And we take out whoever tries to kill us.”

Sucking in a breath, Daniel nods. Grace wordlessly leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The beard tickles her lips, and she smiles, before offering a hand to lead them back to the study so they can carry on from there.

“You’re a good guy, Daniel. You’re the only one I have left.”

There’s a lot more unspoken there, they know. But he takes her hand, halfheartedly smiles, and Grace’s heart feels full for a second. The moment passes and both of them gear themselves up for what’s next.

It goes relatively identical to the first night, but with a handful of changes. Charity’s gun is stolen, the ammunition has all mysteriously disappeared (Daniel and Grace emptying out the cabinets into a corner of the servant’s corridors, to reduce the amount of bullets flying around from the 2 or 3 actual guns in the house). The bows and arrows all only have one arrow each, no refills found for those either. The security cameras stay down, so that not even Alex could find her and see her convening with his brother every other hour. Daniel plays it less cynical around the family, tries to be better at participating, so that they don’t call his bluff and jeopardize the endgame.

Of course, things don’t end simply. They capture Grace, after the car crash, and the poison goes off without a hitch-- it actually kills Helene, for some reason, but Daniel and Grace are running too fast to pay attention.

It’s getting closer and closer to dawn now, and the inevitable encounter with Becky happens-- Daniel getting shot in the shoulder with an arrow by his mother, and Grace bludgeoning her to death with Le Bail’s box. The wound on Daniel’s arm is nowhere near fatal, and Grace is in far worse shape than him, so triumph feels near.

The tension in the room between Alex, Grace, and Daniel is palpable. Daniel stands by her side, watching carefully as Alex approaches them, and just as Alex is about to betray her, it’s _Daniel_ who yells-- 

“She’s here! She’s in here!”

Blindsided, Grace starts fucking _screaming_ , wailing uncontrollably, blinded by rage at his words. How could he fucking betray her? This moment had never happened in any other loop. Her only ally, how could she have grown to trust him above anyone else, to lo-- she catches Daniel’s eyes. Deep brown, brows furrowed and eyes wide, begging and telling. She knows how to read him like the back of her hand, and she realizes-- this is what _needs_ to be done. For _both_ of them to survive. He has to play the traitor once more (he bullshits, lying through his teeth. Says he was confused, but after seeing what Grace did to Becky, he knew she needed to die).

So Grace watches, muffled screaming ringing out as Daniel chants with the rest, Alex hovering above her with the dagger.

“Hail Satan,” Alex echoes, before going to plunge the dagger into her chest-- only to be knocked over last-minute by Daniel, who grabs the knife and helps Grace (who’d clawed Emilie to loosen her grip at that moment) fight off the family members surrounding them as dawn finally comes. 

A moment passes, as sunlight floods the room. Nothing happens, and for a moment Grace thinks maybe _this_ is a win? But then, the record player begins to scratch on it’s own--

_Who wants to play a game? It’s time for Hide and Seek!_

Fitch explodes into bloody chunks. 

Grace laughs, a feral thing, covered in blood and standing by Daniel’s side, clutching at his wounded arm.

Charity begs, trying to take the deal back, fear overtaking her before she, too, explodes. This time, Daniel lets out a clipped laugh.

Emilie is next, and the kids, and then Tony goes-- all hysterical, trying to run away from the fates they had brought upon themselves. Their hysteria is only matched by Daniel and Grace’s own morbid laughter, still guarding one another, despite Alex being the only one in the room.

The look on Alex’s face is one Grace knows all too well, but Daniel had yet to see. The pathetic grovelling, the attempts at reconciliation. Alex takes a step toward her, and Daniel glares. “Don’t fucking touch her, Alex.”

Alex’s disbelief and anger focuses on his older brother, now. “She’s _my_ wife, fuckface. How fucking could you--” 

“How could _you_ , betray her? You let _me_ become the good brother? For fuck’s sake, Alex, you’ve upset the balance of the universe,” Daniel laughs, but it’s empty. His love for his little brother has soured-- it’s there, but it’s coated in a thinly veiled layer of disappointment and disgust. To think there was a time where he died to save the person Alex loved, not just because it was _right_ and he cared for her (too much, far too much _now_ than he would ever allow himself to have, before), but so Alex could fight for her, too. And he threw it all away.

Alex goes to open his mouth up again, but Grace beats him to it. “Oh, _Alex_ ,” her voice comes out in a mocking tone, pout evident on her features. 

But he remains hopeful, daring to ask, “Yes?”

Grace removes her wedding ring, looking up at Daniel before raising a stoic look to Alex.

“I want a divorce.”

He explodes the minute the wedding ring touches his chest.

Grace and Daniel stand there, covered in blood, and flesh, but _alive_ . For a second, Grace fears the worst and clutches onto Daniel for dear life-- hands frantically smoothing over his blood-soaked hair, and cheeks, and shirt. Trying to make sure he’s _here_ , he’s _alive_ and _real_.

The flames lick up the wood, growing larger as they flicker and Le Bail is in his chair. He nods at them, flashes a smile, and disappears in an instant.

“ _Fuck.”_ Their words are spoken in unison, bodies halting from their ministrations. Distantly, Grace smells smoke, and has the memory of the lantern she threw onto the curtains, earlier.

“Let’s-- shit, come on,” Grace yanks Daniel by his good arm, not bothering to look back until they’re both outside, in the sunlight, on the concrete steps.

There’s no cigarettes this time, long forgotten with Becky’s body in a room far away. But Daniel shoves his hand into his pants pocket, fishes out a small flask, and gives her a wolfish grin.

“I come prepared,” Daniel murmurs, flicking the container open and taking a deep swig of the mystery alcohol. After, he offers it to Grace.

Grace stares, for a minute, at the flask. At Daniel’s hand, at Daniel’s eyes, at Daniel’s tongue darting out to lick at his lips, before whispering _fuck it_ and diving in, pressing their lips together in a long-overdue kiss.

Daniel startles, for a second-- pulling away, blinking at her, before smiling softly and diving back in for another. His hands are on her waist, her blood-caked nails are in his hair, and he tastes like alcohol and something so distinctly _Daniel_ it makes her curl her toes and press closer. He also tastes a little like iron, like blood, but she pointedly ignores that.

Behind them, a fixture falls and feeds the flames eating at the mansion. Sirens sound off in the nearing distance, and firefighters soon begin to swarm. But Daniel and Grace simply sit there, hand in hand, passing the flask and gazing at each other. Silently, knowingly, _alive_.

When the firefighter asks what happened, Daniel and Grace simply reply: “Family shit.”


End file.
